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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735286">Hosed Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurtfairchild/pseuds/hurtfairchild'>hurtfairchild</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seelie Clary Series [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, F/M, Name-Calling, Non-Consensual Vaginal Sex, Partner Betrayal, Past Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Past Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Please let me know if I need to add tags, Rape, Seelie Clary Fray, Speciesism, Threats of Experimentation, Threats of Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:15:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurtfairchild/pseuds/hurtfairchild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clary’s pussy was sticky with her own come, and it rubbed uncomfortably onto the leather of the swell of the saddle, making her squirm in place to avoid the rough friction. </p><p>She couldn’t let herself cry now that she was in the city of the Nephilim. She couldn’t let them see weakness. It was stupid, of course, because they would break her down sooner or later. They would see her cry and beg for mercy, but… she hoped not crying now would keep whatever remained of her dignity intact. </p><p>There was so little of that, dignity, left. She was bound on the saddle of a Shadowhunter’s hunting steed, her dress torn, her breasts exposed, her crotch sticky, tears drying on her face and blood drying where her ears had been cruelly cut. She was a prey, a trophy for everyone to admire as Jace and Isabelle led her to her doom.</p><p>----------------</p><p>Following her capture by the hands of her lovers, Clary is taken back to Alicante. Victor Aldertree is waiting for her, and so are more guards, ready to enslave her in the Research Department's basement.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clary Fray/Original Male Character(s), Victor Aldertree/Isabelle Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seelie Clary Series [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hosed Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the follow-up to Was Anything Real? and the second installment in the Seelie Clary series. There will be more! So many things to come!</p><p>Please heed the warnings. If I haven't tagged something or if you think I should tag more, please let me know!</p><p>Hope you enjoy this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The gates of Alicante opened for the two horses, their riders and their prey. The gates themselves were heavy adamas doors. The light of the rising sun reflected on the metallic, engraved surfaces, and they shone into Clary’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt blinded for a moment, completely unable to tell what the scenes engraved in the doors were. She saw a giant sword, but that was all she was able to make out before the doors were completely open and the horses were walking through them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The streets were made of cobblestones, and the hooves of the trotting horses resounded. No one was looking out for them though, no one waiting to see if Jace and Isabelle had succeeded in their endeavours. Clary was relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Passer-bys did stare, but… it was easier to ignore than a crowd of people awaiting her downfall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to turn around for a last look at the woods before she was imprisoned in the city forever but couldn’t, the bonds and Jace’s broad chest keeping her from peeping behind her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary’s pussy was sticky with her own come, and it rubbed uncomfortably onto the leather of the swell of the saddle, making her squirm in place to avoid the rough friction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t let herself cry now that she was in the city of the Nephilim. She couldn’t let them see weakness. It was stupid, of course, because they would break her down sooner or later. They would see her cry and beg for mercy, but… she hoped not crying now would keep whatever remained of her dignity intact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was so little of that, dignity, left. She was bound on the saddle of a Shadowhunter’s hunting steed, her dress torn, her breasts exposed, her crotch sticky, tears drying on her face and blood drying where her ears had been cruelly cut. She was a prey, a trophy for everyone to admire as Jace and Isabelle led her to her doom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The houses on the sides of the road were of golden stone, looking warm and inviting in the early morning sun. What would it be like to live amongst Shadowhunters? As an equal, or as a Nephilim? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary knew she’d been born Nephilim. She knew her Seelie appearance and blood had been given to her by the Queen as an infant. She knew she’d been made into what she was now. What would her life have been, had she not been given to the Queen? Would she be friends or lovers with Jace and Isabelle, but in a way that wouldn’t have led to her betrayal? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor Aldertree watched as the figures of two horses and their riders got bigger and bigger. He had been expecting them coming from the Southern gate, and here they were riding up one of the peripheral avenues of Alicante, up the hill towards the Gard, and towards the Research Department’s buildings. The proximity with the prisons was quite practical on some days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabelle Lightwood rode alone, it seemed. It was to be expected. She’d told Aldertree a few times about how touching the Seelie girl made her uncomfortable. Now that she didn’t have to pretend anymore, she was happy to go back to staying as far from Seelie women as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor was looking forward to having her in his bed, probably tonight. Together, they’d celebrate having the most interesting subject to research and study in all of their respective careers. Isabelle’s scientific mind was on par with Victor’s. It made them fantastic lab partners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horses got closer and closer. The second horse carried Jace, Isabelle’s adoptive brother, as well as the Seelie girl herself. He could see her slight shape in front of Jace’s bigger one, fair of skin and red of hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Seelie was desperately squirming. Her dress had been torn open, probably by the man who rode with her, exposing her pale breasts. She looked dirty. It didn’t matter. They’d get her cleaned up before her medical exam anyway, completely thoroughly to prepare her for the beginning of their work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor had known Jocelyn Fairchild and Valentine Morgenstern enough to recognize them in their daughter. It was strange to see Nephilim features surrounded by the green stems of vines that sprouted into the girl’s flesh. It was… wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be interesting to see if the trait carried to her young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horses stopped as they reached the square. Victor stood at the top of the stairs that led to the Research building’s entrance, watching from above as the riders dismounted and the Seelie was untied from the saddle. The swell of the saddle was gleaming a little with something wet. Victor guessed it was vaginal discharge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabelle’s leg moved, thrown over the back of the horse as she dismounted. The horse was much taller than she was, which wasn’t incredibly hard. She wasn’t the tallest of women. She walked up towards him as her brother dragged the struggling Seelie to Victor’s feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor thumbed at the ring on his finger. The Aldertree family was old too, wealthy too, though not exactly on the same level as the Lightwoods. It was hard for any family to be on the same level as the Lightwoods, actually. He doubted Isabelle’s father would refuse when he asked to marry her. He’d had one Consul in his family, and he was the Head of an entire department.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here she is,” Isabelle pointed out, stopping by Victor’s side. “We already took her ears, one for each of us, so there’s no more prep to do for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always think of everything,” Victor praised. His attention was taken by the Seelie, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was thin and short, though barely shorter than Isabelle. It was a surprise. He’d expected her to be much smaller. With the ease with which Jace was manhandling her though, she was probably very light. Would that change if they managed to turn her back into a Shadowhunter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theories and ideas for experiments were rushing in Victor’s head as he observed her. All that mass of red hair, the blood that wasn’t green but red, looking too much like Shadowhunter blood… It was as if she’d only been made a Seelie in appearance, not inside. How fascinating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr Herondale,” Victor had a courteous smile at Jace. “My people will take her now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two guards moved in seamlessly, grabbing the girl and starting to take her into the building. She tried to fight against them. Blood seeped also from her foot, Victor noted. She was screaming, saying “no” and “please” over and over again, as if any of them cared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jace stopped watching the girl and turned back to Victor. “I was wondering if I could have first taking of her cunt, when you start breeding her. Final farewell, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor chuckled. “Of course, Mr Herondale. I’ll let you know when she’s ready for you. It shouldn’t be too long, we plan on getting most of the breeding out of the way as fast as we can before we start deeper kinds of modifications.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jace reached for the man’s hand and Victor shook it. He bid them farewell and walked towards the horses. He mounted his, grabbed the reins of Isabelle’s and trotted away, leaving his sister with Victor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary was dragged through the doors and into the corridors. The door slammed shut behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit her lip to keep from whining at the loss of her freedom. She’d lost it the second she’d fallen into that trap, but knowing she would never see the sun again felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. Her family, her friends, her life… nature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would live the rest of her life in the darkness and coldness of a building, away from plants and trees and natural light. Clary swallowed her sobs of anguish as much as she could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards that were dragging her along weren’t looking at her. What did they think of her? Did they think she was some sort of animal, a thing, just like their boss seemed to? Or did they know she was a person? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that would make it all worse. She almost preferred the idea that they didn’t really know the gravity of what they were doing, that they were just… seeing her as an animal in a zoo, perhaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was taken to a room with a drain in the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The floor was tiled with white, a clinical and too bright white that reflected the light almost painfully. There were shackles hanging from the ceiling. It was made very obvious what they were made for as Clary’s hands were untied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the guards forced her right arm up and closed the cold iron shackles over her wrists. She thought it would be too loose to keep her, but there seemed to be a tightening mechanism on it, and soon, she realized there was no way she was getting her hand through the metal circle. She didn’t have much time to react as her other arm was shackled as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It left her hung by the wrists from the ceiling, her feet barely touching the ground. She might manage to kick one of the guards as they tried to get closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary tried. She swung herself forward, her already wounded leg kicking in the general direction of one of the guards. This one was the tallest of the two. He had short dark hair cropped close to the skull all over, and dark eyes. He didn’t look particularly emotional about this situation. How many people had been in her place before? This room didn’t look like it had just been set up for her arrival. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was too light for there to be much force behind her swinging kick. The guy groaned, but barely moved back. When he looked at her again afterward, his eyes were dark with a twisted anger. He drew his hand back, and punched her hard in the stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary’s breath was punched out of her, and blinding pain erupted in her belly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knife was slid out of a sheath and Clary started panicking. She didn’t want more pain right now, the punch had been enough to make tears reach her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife’s tip pressed against her collar bone slightly, tracing it. It traced down to the point where her dress had been torn apart and swiftly cut through the material, completely opening the front of the dress. She tried to wriggle away from view but couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard walked to the side and cut the straps of fabric at their shoulders. The dress fell to the floor, the pale pink and brown fabric opening to slow the fall like the wings of a wounded bird. Clary was naked now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t care much about nudity in itself. Seelies were not the most prude of creatures, and she’d bathed with all genders of Seelies before, completely naked, regularly even laying in the shade or in patches of sunlight, on the gentle grass of the ground, completely bare. This was different though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t at home, with her people, enjoying a leisurely moment around one of the ponds of the Seelie realm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was prisoner to the Nephilim. And the two guards were watching her closely, with dark eyes. They obviously cared about nudity, saw it as an arousing and seductive state of being. One of them hadn’t stopped staring at her breasts since they’d walked into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her toes slipped on the tiles of the floor. Her shoulders were already starting to ache from being suspended so long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark-haired man bit his lip for a moment before looking at his colleague. “If we fuck it before washing it, no one will know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as we don’t come in it,” the other said. “And as long as we don’t use its ass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary couldn’t help the little sob that came out of her mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They were calling her </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They didn’t see her as a person. She doubted that all of the other guards would feel differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards had made their decision, it seemed. And that decision was that they wanted to fuck her enough to ignore that she was a Seelie, long enough to orgasm. The dark-haired man undid his belt, unzipped his pants and got his cock out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was only half-hard. He spat into his hand and stroke himself a few times, enough to get himself entirely fully hard. He walked forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary tried to get away from him but she didn’t have much room to move with her wrists hung up. She was too short to go from standing on the sole of her feet to her toes to give herself just a bit more space. Her tries only resulted in aching pain from her wrists as she desperately tried to get more inches from the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was pitiful. So pitiful than the second guard, with his blonde hair and his brown eyes, chuckled. Clary bit her lip. The first guard grabbed one of her legs, pulling it up to reveal her labia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s furry,” the blonde chuckled. “Look at all that red hair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary set her jaw. She knew she was dry, down there. Her orgasm on Jace’s hands was too far away now. The blunt head of the man’s cock nudged her folds. Her body was swinging a little, making it harder for the man to thrust into her. A couple of times, he hit just on the edge of her hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fourth try, his dick caught at the edge of her pussy and he pushed forward. Clary cried out in pain as the hard cock thrusted inside of her tight, dry hole. It was wrong, it felt wrong. She was too tight for this to be perfectly comfortable when she was aroused, but this… this was like fire spreading into her pussy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seelie penises were different from Nephilim or mundane ones. They were usually longer and thinner, ridged on the sides and with an almost pointed tip, almost like a closed tulip bud. Nephilim had larger, slightly shorter members, much smoother. And Clary’s pussy was made for Seelie cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jace had been well endowed for a Nephilim, and she’d needed a lot of foreplay to make it comfortable enough for her to enjoy herself. It had taken trial and error, time and patience. Clary would never get time and patience again, ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard’s hands were on her hips, keeping her up as he fucked inside of her, forcing her pussy to get used to his shape. Clary’s noises of pain resounded in the white-tiled and empty room. Her hair and breasts moved with the strength of his thrusts. Her body bounced on his cock. It didn’t feel good. It would never really feel good again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind drifted back to Jace. And Isabelle. To the way they’d spent hours in bed together, making love. Their bodies against hers, the tangling of limbs and sheets and their moans in her ears. They’d made her feel… cherished. It hurt so much to think it had all been a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was slapped suddenly. She blinked, forcing her eyes to adjust to reality. She didn’t know how long she’d been drifting away, but the dark-haired man’s thrusts had gotten erratic in the meantime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay with us, bitch,” he growled. “You don’t get to escape this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary swallowed and focused on the man’s face, then. He was reddened by the effort of fucking her like this, holding her weight up. It was lessening the strain on her arms and shoulders a little. She guessed it was a bit of a silver lining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, that cunt is like a vice,” the man groaned. “I’m gonna cum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde man mumbled something about not lasting very long, before reminding him not to come inside of her. They’d been told they weren’t allowed to use her, it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clary toyed with the idea of telling their boss, who seemed to be the darker-skinned and dark-haired man that had been waiting for Jace and Isabelle, that they’d fucked her. It probably wouldn’t really help her situation, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man suddenly pulled out of her, letting go of her hips. The entire weight of her body was returned to her wrists and shoulders and she groaned in pain. He was stroking himself now, aiming towards her belly. Warm sticky ropes of white semen hit her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second guard wasn’t so nice as to take her the same way his colleague had, in a way that allowed her wrists some relief. On the contrary, he positioned himself behind her, shoving himself inside of her pussy. From behind like this, it was more animalistic, she found. The hands on her hips weren’t holding her up as much as they were holding her down and in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least she was open enough that it didn’t hurt her as much as it had with the first guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d had this kind of rough animalistic sex before. With Seelies, mostly, when they were younger and fumbling around in the woods, drunk on their own instincts and sweet wines of birch sap and berry. It had been hot and fast and filthy. It had been very fun too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t fun. This was twisted and inhuman. She was a thing, a puppet, a toy to them, not an equal drunk on wine shared in the same cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second one came even faster than the first. Clary guessed she was tight when she wasn’t aroused. Tightness made people with cocks come faster, usually, if it wasn’t too tight to be comfortable. He didn’t spray his semen on her stomach the way the first had, but on her ass. Clary felt dirtier like this than she’d felt rolling in mud and leaves before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew there was the dirt of the woods still on her skin. There was blood dried from where they’d cut her ears, two points of pain in her head that wouldn’t go away. Tears dried on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved back, straightened their clothing and closed their pants back up. Would they let her off of the chains now? Probably not. They’d said something about cleaning her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men grabbed aprons that were suspended from hooks in the wall. Clary swallowed. The dark-haired one put on some gloves as well, that seemed to be made of a rubbery material. And then, he reached for a hose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dark green with an orange nozzle, curled and hung from another hook in the wall. He aimed it towards Clary’s belly, and the other guard opened the water flow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water was freezing cold, and it hit her stomach hard, the pressure more intense than she’d been expecting. Clary yelped, trying to wriggle away from the flow that slapped her skin, cold and heavy like icy daggers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was getting the semen off of her skin alright. But it was so cold. Clary closed her eyes, holding her jaw closed and pressing her teeth together as they moved up her chest. Her breasts were tight with the cold now, and the blond guy was licking his lips. Clary decided looking at them was a bad idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they moved over the front of her body, hosing off the dirt and the blood, she focused on the drain. Water stained with brown or red swirled there, escaping the room. She would never get to escape the room. Clary wished she could melt with the water and follow the flow to freedom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved to her back, and the water got a little white for a second. The worst of the blood came out of her hair. It was mated with it. They turned the flow to her face and she flinched away. It hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too soon, the small respite of not being touched was over. They grabbed her, dried her off with a coarse piece of fabric and opened the shackles. Her knees buckled as her feet properly hit the ground. She slipped on the wet tiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They forced her back to her feet. Her hair was still wet, dripping water down her spine. They grabbed new cuffs, different from the ones in the ceiling. They were slimmer, tighter around her wrists, and had Nephilim runes carved into the smooth metal surface. There were one for each wrist, but they weren’t held together by a chain. There were hooks in them. Clary gathered chains would be tethered to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The runes glowed blood red as the cuffs closed. Clary turned her wrists around. There was no visible line where the cuffs had been closed. It had fuzed back together in one single piece of metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As expected, a short length of chain was hooked in between the two cuffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Seelie,” the dark-haired man said. “The vet’s waiting for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two guards chuckled. Clary shuddered at the word ‘vet’. She really wasn’t a person anymore.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you've enjoyed this, feel free to hit me up @hurtfairchild on tumblr! I love hearing back from people &lt;3</p><p>If you're interested in an 18+ Shadowhunters server not focused on Malec, come and check out Everything But The Institute Sink! https://discord.gg/hXekdtM</p></blockquote></div></div>
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